My Light In The Darkness-Series (3): Open Heart
by subseeker
Summary: The sound of a fist colliding with the metal of the locker ripped through the room and like a jolt throughout Joe, causing him to flinch hard. For a second he was even too shocked to breathe while his heart set for running a mile a second. Close to the first dent was now another one. Blood stains on metal were gleaming in the light. (Ambreigns, one-shot - on their way to more ;)


Some Humpday Ambreigns for you :)

Thought I should add another sequel to this series.

Enjoy!

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The knocking at the door was insistent, demanding that Joe finally reacted.

Throwing his tee on with a sigh, he called: "Yeah yeah, come in!"

The door jumped open and... Colby. Colby was standing there, his expression a mixture of irritation and a certain desperation.

"What's wrong, man?" he wanted to know, hoping that it was nothing big since he wanted nothing more than to head to the hotel and fall into bed.

The show had been straining and he'd been tired the whole day already, what had made him decline his co-workers invitations on an after show beer.

"You gotta come over and talk to Jon," Colby sighed. "He's going on a rampage in his locker room. Tried already to calm him down and talk him into calling it a night but he's in full Mox-mode." Mox-mode. He should have known that this would happen, shouldn't he? The signs had been there. "I'm afraid he'll end up hurting himself or even someone else."

Joe groaned. Though he didn't know much about Jon, he'd learned enough about him over the weeks they had spent on building a friendship to know that a bad mood and Mox-mode combined never ended well.

"Yeah. And what makes you think that he'll listen to me?" he replied, rubbing his eyes.

Safe to say this night would be very long. Goodbye sleep.

"If not you, then I don't know who could talk some sense into him," Colby muttered. "You are you. The closest thing to a best buddy that he has."

Well, Colby had a point there...

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'm coming," Joe agreed, not sure though that Jon would listen to him.

After all Jon hadn't been talking to him much the whole day and if, then only with a certain edge in his voice.

But it was worth a try, wasn't it?

They weren't exactly running to Jon's locker room but with every step Joe's pace became more hurried because, fuck, he was worried. More than he probably should because yes, he was caring about Jon. Much. Even though most people told him to better not to get too close to the crazy guy. A lot of the other guys stuck around Jon as long as he was fun but once it was about serious things like dealing with the person Jon, they stayed away like the cat from the water.

Colby was talking to Joe while they were heading down the corridor but Joe didn't really hear him. What he did hear though was the noise. And a hoarse shout, followed by a heavy thud. Just when they rounded a corner, he caught a few people standing in front of the room that served as Jon's locker room, jumping aside as a chair came flying through the open door.

"Get them out of the way," Joe muttered to Colby. "This doesn't need an audience."

A hand on his shoulder stopped him, a gentle tug telling him to look over to the younger man.

"Careful, Joe, I've never seen him like this," Colby warned.

"Don't worry. You take care of the others, I take care of him."

Hopefully without making it worse, he thought.

Joe stepped into the room, closing the door. With a quiet click Colby's voice, telling their co-workers to leave, was cut off. Jon stood facing the wall, his forearms braced against the rough surface and his forehead pressed against his balled fists, his shoulders rising and falling under heavy breathing. The sound of harsh breaths fleeted through the quietness.

"Jon?" he said hushed after a moment, remaining where he was standing though.

For a second or two the quietness returned.

Then: "Fuck off."

Joe blinked. A frown appeared on his face. What the fuck had happened? Yesterday when they had been out for a drink everything had been fine between them. At least he'd thought so. Till now...

"No," he sighed. "C'mon, man, what's going on here?"

His gaze swept through the room, finding stuff scattered all over the floor, table and chair tilted. A decent dent in the door of the locker in the size of a fist.

The whole damn day Jon had acted strange already. Not that being strange was unusual when it came to the other man but today it had been different. Today Jon had been tense like someone who was waiting for something really bad to happen and nervous, more fidgety than he happened to be already anyway. And Joe could have sworn that the air around Jon had been singing under that tension already the last time he had seen him, what had been about a little more than an hour ago, before their matches.

Most of all it had been the reserved way that Jon had met him with. Now that he thought back, it was even a certain passive-aggressiveness clinging to it, too.

Like a dog that threatens to bite before it can be bitten. Like a dog that has been hurt one time too often.

There's a difference between giving up and knowing when you've had enough... but to Joe it seemed as if Jon could not do that. Like giving himself a break, almost as if it would mean to lose a battle if he did.

He wondered what had happened and he did not mean what was happening in this room right now, because Colby had already told him when he'd come to Joe's locker room a moment ago. No, what he meant was... what was wrong with Jon today? Why had be kept pushing him away verbally? Joe couldn't remember anything that might have caused Jon to be pissed at him.

But then again what did he know about this man? Barely anything...

No. To be honest there wasn't much he knew about him. He knew what Jon allowed the world to know and yes, he could see past the shield this man put up against the world, saw that there was so much more but there was also a shadow, an old one. And thick scars over deep war wounds. He could read Jon. Yet there was always that well hidden part that the other man protected with all he had to put up.

Running a hand through his hair, Joe sighed again. Had he said or done something that had caused Jon to be mad? But then again the man had already been behaving weird the moment he'd stepped into the building, before they had even been able to exchange a word...

Drawing a deep breath, he began to walk towards the other man slowly, carefully approaching him and he could watch Jon's shoulders tensing up more with every step he took closer. He stopped as he there was only an arms length of distance left between them. Closer enough to touch and comfort... although he guessed that Jon wouldn't want to be touched right now... yet still enough space to leave the other man a way to back out if he wanted.

It was now that Joe noticed the blood stains on Jon's knuckles and although only a second ago his brain had noted that Jon probably didn't want to be touched, he reached out nevertheless and laid a hand on a tense shoulder. For the briefest of moments he felt hot skin under his digits.

The next thing he knew was that he was lying on the floor with an aching jaw. Cupping it with his palm, he groaned and sat up, finding Jon standing there with balled hands, panting heavily, and clenched teeth... and wide eyes. Regret was written there but only momentarily. It was wiped away by an odd blankness the second their gazes met.

"What the fuck, dude?!" he growled, rubbing his sore jaw.

"Told you to fucking leave me alone!" Jon growled back, his posture reminding Joe of a dog about to charge.

 _What the hell is going on here...?_

Rising to his feet, Joe managed just so to dodge another blow. The third one was aimed for his side and it hit home, dragging another groan from his throat.

Jon never got to throw another one at him.

Before he could even try it, Joe surged forward, not to hit back but to stop this shit as he tackled him to the ground and turned him face down, twisting one of Jon's arms behind his back to stop the struggling.

"What's your fucking problem?!" he hissed, almost losing his grip on the other man's arm as the body beneath him reared up despite the painful angle of the twisted arm.

The struggling became... fighting... and pressing his knee in the middle of the other man's back to hold him down, Joe shifted his hold on the arm, trying to lessen the strain on the shoulder a little because the last thing he wanted was to hurt Jon.

"Jon... Jon, stop!" he gritted out, muttering a _shit_ right afterwards as Jon managed to get his arm free. There was a sharp pain as Jon somehow got a grip on a strand of his hair, yanking at it, ripping it out and his grunt drowned in Joe's pained cry.

Again Jon reared up, reaching back to claw at whatever his fingers would find... but catching it, Joe once more twisted the other man's arm backwards, this time sitting down on his back to pin him to the ground.

Closing his fingers around Jon's wrist in a tight, he roared: " _Stop this shit, Moxley!_ "

It was out before he could stop it. Not the command to finally stop this irrational bullshit but the name. Outside the ring he'd never called him Moxley. It was something other people did but to him Jon _was not Moxley_. Had never been.

A wince flashed over the other man's face and it made him aware that his tight hold had become a vice-grip. And suddenly... the writhing beneath him died down, the blue eyes closing tightly.

A wheezing was the only thing to be heard in the returning quietness as Jon tried to breathe. Bowing his head, Joe screwed his eyes shut against the urge to just wrap his arms around his friend. _Friend_.

Faintly he noticed the other man's breathing becoming more and more shallow. Tense features was what he found as he looked at him again, furrowed brows…

Letting go of Jon's arm, he hesitantly stood up, whispering: " _Jon_..."

It was a plea. Don't fight me, I don't mean harm. _You know that._

Jon drew a deep and shaky breath the second the weight was gone, the air being released again in a pained groan as the arm that had been held pinned to the other man's back slid down to the ground, coming to lie there unmoving.

Those blue eyes stayed closed though. Eyes which were like open doors sometimes, giving glimpses on what was hidden behind them. If you knew how to _see_.

With another groan Jon rolled over onto his back, holding his shoulder, still not looking at Joe but fine lines were etched in his features, deepening as he tried to move his arm.

"I'm sorry," he said just above a whisper, hunching down and laying a hand on the sore shoulder but the moment he touched it, Jon rolled over again.

Away from him.

Climbing to his feet, Jon stepped up to his locker.

"Get out," Joe heard him mutter.

"I'm your friend, Jon, I..."

The sound of a fist colliding with the metal of the locker ripped through the room and like a jolt throughout Joe, causing him to flinch hard. For a second he was even too shocked to breathe while his heart set for running a mile a second. Close to the first dent was now another one. Blood stains on metal were gleaming in the light.

"I never _asked_ you to be my _friend!_ " Jon roared, spinning around. His eyes were heavily guarded. But the expression on his face made him look like a cornered animal. " _I don't need a fucking friend_! Now get _the fuck_ out of my locker room and quit sticking your nose into my life! _I don't need you!_ "

The last words hit Joe like a slap to the face and hurt more than the blows he'd taken. Taking a step back, he tried to understand what was happening here, the why and the how and...

He didn't want to go. He... no way that Jon was serious...

The emotion that flashed in the blue eyes was none Joe had a word for as Jon suddenly moved forward, knocking his shoulder hard into Joe's as he passed him without another word.

The door was being opened...

"Jon."

Hesitation? Turning around, Joe found him standing in the doorway, fingers clamping down on the doorknob and the shoulders tense and the muscles in his other arm flexing as he opened and closed his hand... the head slightly bowed as if he was fighting with himself.

"Jon, _please_..."

The silence that fell over the room after Jon walked out and slammed the door shut was thick and bitter, weighing down on Joe while he stood frozen to the spot for minutes, trying hard to understand what had just happened...

x

The mood in the waiting room was choking and the chair Joe was sitting on, waiting, was far from being comfortable but hey, jails weren't supposed to be a high class hotel, were they? The waiting tore at his already frayed nerves and the fact that he was dog tired wasn't helping, too.

His thoughts were running. To Jon. To meet him half-way. Actually... no. To be honest they had never really left Jon, being with him and waiting for Joe to come and pick Jon up to fix it.

Or rather... fix Jon.

After the incident in Jon's locker room, he went to the hotel with a hurting jaw and side, with a mind that was racing at a speed that couldn't be healthy and an aching heart because more than anything Jon's _words_ had hurt. Even more because he couldn't understand why things had gotten out of hand like this.

Three hours of sitting on the bed in a dark hotel room had followed, being tired as fuck but sleep had stayed far away from him or maybe it just couldn't get through his revolving thoughts. Play, stop, rewind. Play again, replaying those minutes over and over again.

Why had Jon been like that?

No answer.

Frustrating. Depressing.

He wanted to be Jon's friend, had taken careful steps towards the man, only going as far as he was allowed and over the weeks his efforts had paid off, hadn't they? There _was_ a connection between them. Ever since that one night in the side street, when Jon had allowed that embrace, had given him that tiny but genuine smile... it had clicked back then. The sound of that invisible door that Jon had allowed him to pass being shut behind him.

And now? It felt to him as if he had failed at being the friend he'd wanted to be. There was something he'd missed, something severe, something he should have seen...

No. No... no matter how hard he thought about it... no answer...

Eventually his phone had called for his attention, the caller ID showing him the name of one of their co-workers.

 _Jon got arrested, thought you might want to know._

For long minutes all he did was staring at his phone afterwards, waiting for it to pipe up with a call from Jon but nothing happened, the small device remaining stubbornly silent in his hand until he couldn't stand it any longer and started a little call marathon to find out where Jon had been brought to.

And now here was here. Waiting. _Waiting_...

After what had happened in the locker room he maybe shouldn't be here now but then again even when the air between them was bad, friend was friend. In good times and in bad times. There wasn't much difference between being friends and being married, was there? And he needed to be sure that Jon was okay and safe. Everything else... time would show. Sorting problems out could wait until the mood was better again.

The time between the moment he'd left the hotel until he'd stepped into this room was nothing but a blur, an indefinable mush of thoughts and confused emotions.

With a sigh he got up from the chair, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger because he couldn't sit any longer. The waiting tore at him harder with every passing minute. How long could it take to release someone from jail...?

It was a plain room, no windows and the only things in here were three uncomfortable chairs and he wondered what the cell in which they had locked Jon away might look like. The image that popped up in his mind though of Jon sitting in a room as plain... dismal... on a cot... it caused his chest to clench. He didn't know why Jon was here at all. The only information he had was that Jon had been digging for trouble. Probably he'd started been drinking too much and it had ended in a brawl.

The sound of heavy doors being opened and closed drew his attention and he looked up to what he guessed was the door Jon would come through. Seconds passed, doing funny things to his guts. His heart was thumping uncomfortably, making it difficult to breathe. And the door to the waiting room clicked loudly as the lock slipped back, creaked as it was being opened.

And then Jon came in... and froze.

As did Joe the very moment his eyes fell on the other man.

There was a nasty bruises on Jon's right cheekbone and a swelling was forming around his right eye. His bottom lip was split and his knuckles were bloody. Scratches shone all over his face and his neck, his arms.

Fuck. _Fuck_...

The door closed... and they were alone in the room. Jon looked somehow _small_ as he stood there, Joe noticed, and obviously very surprised and even shocked to find Joe here. Guilty. And... and scared, too... The gaze of those baby blues dropped to the floor. Dejected. Jon was looking so... _dejected_...

There were so many things Joe wanted to say to him, but this wasn't the right place and so he took a deep breath and said: "Come on, let's get out of here."

His voice didn't come out as soft as he would have wanted it to but he traced it back to the tension he was feeling. He turned to leave then but after a few steps he realized that Jon wasn't following him, was standing at the same spot with his eyes still directed at the floor.

"Jon?" he asked quietly.

A flinch. But he met Joe's gaze again and it seemed as if he wanted to flee. Again... like a cornered animal. Exhaustion was radiating off of him. It was time to take him to the hotel and again Joe turned to leave and this time he heard quiet steps following him. Taking a glance over his shoulder, he found him trailing behind like a kicked puppy, head bowed and eyes on the ground.

The air outside was a chilly und clear, washing away the uneasy feeling that had settled over Joe the moment that he'd stepped in there. He breathed through. His heart was still thumping in his chest because the situation was fragile and the last thing he wanted was that Jon decided that it was better not to come with him now.

When they reached the car, he turned around but Jon wasn't answering his gaze and with an inaudible sigh he got into the car while the other man kept standing outside, staring at the car door for a moment before opening it, getting into the car, too. Joe let his eyes wander over his face. Uncertainty. And fuck yes, he was scared and he still looked small. So very unlike the Jon he knew.

The ride to the hotel was very quiet and every now and then Joe glanced over to him, finding him staring out of the window. Tenseness radiated off of him in waves, leaving Joe's fingers itching to reach over and just put a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder but he didn't. One of Jon's hands was holding onto his tee tightly, the other lay clenched to a fist in his lap. His jaw muscles jumped and his eyes looked suspiciously glassy. And he was much too pale for Joe's taste.

Just like he had done back at the police station, Jon trailed behind him as they made their way from the car into the hotel and to the elevators, the quietness following them like a good dog because Joe still didn't dare to break it.

It was when Joe eventually stopped in front of his room, retrieving the key card that Jon eventually spoke.

"Joe..."

Barely more than a whisper.

Pausing with his hand on the door knob, Joe replied very quietly: "Yeah."

Pushing the door open, Joe walked into his room... leaving the door open in a silent invitation to follow and as a sign that nothing had changed between them. At least not from his side. His way lead to the bathroom to get a wet towel and band-aids when he got back into the main room, he found Jon sitting on the bed, his forearms braced on his knees, hands dangling between them. His head was bowed, the messy hair hiding his eyes away from Joe's sight. To see him like this bestowed Joe a hard, painful tug at his heart but he told himself that there was a chance that by the end of the night they could go back to being... friends _._ Slowly approaching him, he called his name quietly. Jon looked up as he hunched down in front of him.

Sadness. Defeat.

"Let's get you patched up."

A faint nod. An okay.

Reaching out for the damaged hands, Joe began to clean them and the simple feeling of holding those hands in his calmed him. Jon was here. He was safe now.

The smell of alcohol hit him with every of Jon's breaths. The bruise on the cheekbone and the swelling around the eye became more and more visible now, both surely becoming a colorful reminder of a bad night tomorrow. There was no sound of discomfort from Jon but he couldn't hold back the flinching, the wincing.

But before Joe could think of a good start, Jon spoke first: "I'm sorry..."

His voice was very quiet and hollow. Joe never faltered in his ministrations thought, carefully placing band-aids on the deeper scratches.

"I know," he said hushed, gently brushing his thumb over a band-aid, less to make it stick better to the skin beneath as more to comfort them both.

"How did you know where I was?" Jon wanted to know, blinking slowly while his brows furrowed a bit.

"One of the guys called me and told me that you were arrested," he explained. "I had to call three police departments until I found out where they took you. Why didn't you call me?"

Jon began to chew at his lower lip but stopped with another wince as it jarred the cut in it.

"Didn't think that you'd come..."

Shaking his head lightly, Joe dared to brush a hand over the blond mop of hair, murmuring: "What happened?"

A snort, lacking any amusement though.

"Asshole said I shouldn't be here," Jon muttered, baby blues dropping to the floor. "That I don't have enough talent to... huh... That I should stop wasting other people's time..."

Joe's hand found a home in the back of Jon's neck, fingers curling around tense muscles.

"Who was it?" he asked

"Not important."

"Jon..."

"Just, uh... just forget it."

" _Jon_ ," he repeated more insistently. "You don't believe them, do you?"

"I... no..." Jon breathed a heavy sigh and the glance he gave Joe betrayed him before his words could. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. C'mon, talk to me."

"They, ya know, told me that I wouldn't get a shot at the Championship."

Joe watched him closely while he spoke and something told him that this still wasn't everything.

"What else?" Silence. "You _know_ I'm your _friend_. You can _trust_ me, Jon."

He felt Jon sit back and he let go of the other man's neck even if only reluctantly because it felt as if he was slipping through his fingers again.

"Nothing."

"Look at me," Joe demanded softly but instead of meeting his gaze Jon wanted to stand up. But Joe stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. There was only little resistance. "I don't know what I did that you..." He trailed off. That you don't like me anymore? "Whatever I've said or done, I'm sorry, okay? Just... you said that... I mean, yesterday everything was okay and today you tell me to fuck off. I just don't understand it."

From the corner of his eye he saw Jon wrap one arm around himself while his other hand balled to a fist.

"It's not your fault," Jon whispered, breaking his gaze away again and Joe felt a heavy weight drop from his own shoulders.

He felt the shoulder under his palm tremble a little and he could have sworn that Jon's whole body was humming under the tension. It was obvious that the other man didn't want to or couldn't look him in the eyes, felt uncomfortable to do so. Giving the shoulder a gentle squeeze, Joe moved to sit on the bed beside the other man, fixing his eyes on a random spot on the floor instead of Jon's face to give him more room to speak... if he wanted to.

He waited.

A touch on his shoulder. It was Jon's, lightly pressing against his own.

Reassurance?

He didn't say anything, just leaned in himself for firmer contact. To tell him that it was okay, that he wasn't alone.

And he waited.

Sometimes, in quiet moments when he was alone, he thought about how life would have been if he had never met Jon, if he had never cut into his life like a whiplash. If he had never crawled under his skin like he'd done, had never hooked his fingers behind chords in Joe of which he hadn't even been aware until then. In those moments Joe felt like floating in a rough sea of emotions, some of them leaving him uneasy but most of them causing him to drift even more towards this man.

If he hadn't met Jon, he was sure that his life would have turned out completely different. Not better but maybe more careful because being a part of Jon's life brought you on grounds that were just as unstable as the man himself. If he hadn't met him, then he wouldn't be feeling that thingy tugging at his insides, an odd kind of affection that he felt for this man he barely knew but wanted to know everything about, because there was this _connection_.

People had told him that it would be better if he stayed away from Jon but he had held his finger into the current, had been dragged into it already and he didn't want to hold his hand out to get a hold on something that could pull him out again. It was nothing that logic could starve out, this feeling of wanting to be Jon's friend.

It was there and it was good.

He'd been thinking about how all the planning and strategizing his life had made him believe that he was in total control of everything until that one moment when he'd made the decision to go over to Jon and pull him into that embrace.

Unstable.

He'd heard people call Jon volatile.

Jon didn't like being called unstable and maybe he was right. Not unstable but unpredictable if Joe was asked. He just wondered what had made Jon be like he was.

There was a movement beside him as the arm that Jon leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead against his folded hands. He could see the muscles of Jon's jaw jump under gritted teeth before he heard a shuddering breath being exhaled, carrying a barely audible _fuck_ alone. Again Joe's fingers itched to reach out and comfort him but no, he should not. He needed to give Jon the room he needed.

"Why are you doing this?"

It was spoken so lowly that Joe had to strain his ears to even hear it.

"What?" he replied quietly.

"This." Jon lifted a hand away briefly, motioning back and forth between them both, before resuming his position from before. "You should be mad at me."

"Yeah, maybe," Joe sighed, frowning lightly. Maybe he should. Huh, as if he ever could. "Maybe I should kick your ass but I'll be fine if you buy the beer the next time," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood a little. He noticed the corner of Jon's mouth twitch a bit, curling up to the briefest of smiles. "You're my friend and I'm worried about you, you know?"

"Friend..." Jon whispered.

"Yeah, friend. I thought you knew that..."

"I..." Jon paused. He exhaled a harsh breath, one of those you breathe when you try to release pressure because everything weighs down on you too heavily. "I know and uh, that's the problem, ya know?"

"Being your friend is the problem?" Joe murmured, brows furrowing in slight confusion.

He wanted to ask for the why... but the words died right in his throat as Jon turned his head slowly, looking him right in the eyes and Joe's chest constricted under what found in those baby blues. Unshed tears?

And then... Jon began to speak. About his past. His childhood, about his parents and about things which should never have happened but had. He told him about a life that made you either a fighter because you survived and got out of the gutter or that killed you bit by bit, subtle and without fail. But Jon had fought. Still did. Every day of his life because he had to, no matter how often he had stumbled and fallen, no matter if he'd been sent right into the windshield of his life, smashing it. Invisible scars over deep cuts which had never really healed.

Listening... _hurt_... because with every gaze he caught and every word he heard he _felt_ it... and after what felt like an eternity Jon eventually fell quiet for a moment, breathing deeply while his fingers twisted in the fabric of his hoody because he'd wrapped his arms around himself again. The sound of air being dragged into lungs made Joe realize that he held his breath and he released the air that was trapped in his lungs slowly. His heart was thudding against his chest.

Opening his mouth, Joe wanted to say something, anything, but all he could do was look at Jon with big eyes because what Jon had just laid bare... it had floored him. He wanted to tell him how sorry he was that he'd had to go through all that, say something comforting, no matter what.

But maybe Jon knew. Maybe he could read it in Joe's eyes because there was a glint in those blue eyes.

Leaning in, Joe pulled him into an embrace, a wave relief and warmth washing through him as he felt Jon's arms come up around his middle. The body in his arms sagged a little against him, the tension draining from him and for Joe it was like a button being pushed.

"I am here for you," Joe whispered, tightening his hold on his friend.

He felt Jon bury his face in the crook of his neck, his fingers twisting into Joe's shirt

"I'm not used to having a real friend, ya know?" Jon mumbled against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "I'm not used to uh... people staying in my life. And last night when I got home from the bar, I, ya know, I realized how much you've become a part of my life already and I..."

Jon trailed off.

"And you thought that cutting the ties before I could do it would be less painful," Joe finished the sentence for him. A nod against his shoulder. "I'm here for you, Jon, and I'm not gonna let you down. Promise."

Lifting a hand to the blonde locks, he cradled his friend's head against this shoulder. The last sound that faded in the air before the room fell quiet was Joe's name, breathed into the hollow of his neck.

Long minutes passed in which neither of them let go. The quietness that reigned around them trickled into Joe's thoughts, slowing them down and the knowledge that Jon didn't really want him to stay out of his life was pure relief. But the truth about Jon's past tasted infinitely bitter and knowing that it was something he couldn't change tore at him.

The hands which had been holding on to his shirt suddenly slipped down while the body in his arms sagged even more and the puffs of air which fleeted over his neck had become even and shallow.

"Jon?" he whispered. No answer. "Really? You're falling asleep on me here? Just like that?" he chuckled quietly.

Maybe it was better though, sleeping it all off.

Deciding to wait a bit longer until he could be sure that Jon was fast asleep before he manoeuvred him into bed, he turned his head a little and pressed his cheek against the soft hair.

Jon was wayworn and rough around the edges, ragged by the bumpy way he'd had to go and sometimes it scared him how attached he had become to this man but it was okay. It was good. It was just how he wanted it to be because this connection between them, it was special.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the steady breathing. No, he couldn't change the past... but he would do all it took to keep his promise...

 _I am here for you._

\- End -

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